


The Children of the Phoenix & the Philosopher's Stone

by MurderouslyAdorkable



Series: Children of the Phoenix [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Separate Childhoods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderouslyAdorkable/pseuds/MurderouslyAdorkable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On October 31st, 1981, Harry Potter and his twin sister, Elizabeth were orphaned and Lord Voldemort was destroyed. Or so it was hoped. Dumbledore, fearing together the twins would make an easier target, split them up. Harry was sent to the Dursleys and Elizabeth was given to Joyce Summers to be raised “with the knowledge the Dark Lord’s equal has not.” To further insure their safety, Elizabeth’s death was faked and neither twin was raised with the knowledge that the other existed.</p><p>Now 10 years later, as both Harry and Elizabeth not only make new friends, play aerial sports and learn of the magic all around them, but also discover the great destiny that has been waiting for them… if they can survive the encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl They Kept Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Twisting the Hellmouth like a billion years ago...
> 
> I like Harry and Buffy crossovers. Especially those dealing with various Buffy characters’ family origins. There’s a couple that intrigue me; the ones having Faith related to the Blacks somehow and Buffy being Harry’s long lost twin sister. I don’t know why but I like them. And since the Buffy characters were born in and around the same time as Harry and his friends it seemed the most logical to me to have a story set in Hogwarts during Harry’s tenure there. So for fun I came up with this. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> You can follow me at CuteLikeMurder or my writing group at FuzzyCheeseProductions on Tumblr.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, universes or situations. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing (Or whatever they’re called), Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. In laymen’s terms they belong to people who are way more creative than I could ever be. Which is probably why I’m still freaking broke and they’re rich. Anyway, I claim no rights to copyrighted material and this story is purely for entertainment purposes. Let us hope I at least got that part right.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters, universes or situations. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing (Or whatever they’re called), Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. In laymen’s terms they belong to people who are way more creative than I could ever be. Which is probably why I’m still freaking broke and they’re rich. Anyway, I claim no rights to copyrighted material and this story is purely for entertainment purposes. Let us hope I at least got that part right.

* * *

  It was on a cool Tuesday night when our story begins. The entire Wizarding World was overjoyed that 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' was finally defeated after 11 years of living in fear for their very lives. So many of them had been lost; both Muggle and wizard alike. Too many good people had fallen victim to the Dark Lord's evil deeds. And it seemed as though if you were a member of the Order of the Phoenix, you saw more than your fair share of death and destruction.

Caradoc Dearborn, disappeared; Edward Giles, killed for refusing to serve the Dark Lord; Edgar Bones, killed along with his wife and three children; Benjy Fenwick, blown to bits; Marlene McKinnon, murdered; Dorcas Meadowes, killed by Voldemort himself; Fabian and Gideon Prewett, died like heroes fighting Death Eaters; and Frank and Alice Longbottom, tortured to the point of insanity. But nothing had compared to the pain of losing the Potters, at least to one wizard in particular by the name of Rupert Edwin Giles.

Rupert was a tall, thin man who was a lot stronger than his slender frame gave him credit for. He had been working as an Auror for a little over 10 years and that burden had begun to take shape, giving his crystal blue gaze a heavy weight to them; the kind of weight one acquired when they saw what he had seen or had done the things that he had done. The constant wear on his soul had also started to gray the mousy brown hair around his temples prematurely.

His horn-rimmed glasses were by the bottle of fire-whiskey that sat near empty within an arm's-reach for easy accessibility. Rupert, being the kind of man that he was, was not dressed in the wizards’ robes but instead in a gray tweed suit with black loafers. His smoky, ash-colored duster hung carelessly on the back of his chair. And as everyone in the Leaky Cauldron raised their glasses to the defeat of the Dark Lord and their champion, The Boy Who Lived, Rupert drank to the memory of Lily Potter, James Potter and their daughter, Elizabeth.

Over the last 11 years, he had gotten to know Lily and James very well; and even more so after the birth of their twins. Rupert, as a member of the Order was assign to guard the Potters, periodically. He saw himself as a rakish uncle of sorts to the little Potters. James and Lily, he had gone to school with. Although, he had been just a tad older than they were to be good friends with them during their school days, Rupert respected the Potter more than most.

He kept replaying the last time he saw James and Lily alive. It was just as they were leaving for a destination unknown to all, but one other person. How Voldermort found them was still a mystery. But Rupert had a few ideas. And should those ideas ever become facts… Merlin help those responsible. What happened to the Potters would be a sweet mercy than what was in store for whoever it was that betrayed them.

“Minerva, fancy a drink?” Rupert asked, bitterly without even turning to face the tall, rather severe-looking woman in dark emerald green robes with a pointed hat that was cocked to one side covering her black hair. Rupert didn't need to look at her to know that Minerva McGonagall was frowning. During his years as a student at Hogwarts he came to know that frown all too well.

“Rupert,” Minerva began, sternly as if he was still her student. “Thank Merlin your grandmother and father aren’t alive to see you in this state.”

He scoffed, emptying his glass. “I don't know what you're referring to. I'm celebrating, just as everyone else is. Haven't you heard? The Dark Lord has been defeated. And it only cost us few more innocent lives. Hear-hear!”

Minerva's expression softened. “It wasn't your fault Rupert.”

“Wasn't it? I should have been there, Minerva. I should have been there to protect them. It was my job…” he trailed off. It was clear that he held himself responsible for the Potters' deaths. He went over how he could have saved him. If only he had gotten there sooner, or had been brave enough to take on the Dark Lord himself; maybe they would still be alive.

The aging professor sat down opposite to her former pupil. He had grown into a fine wizard, one worthy of his family name; present actions not withstanding. Edna, his grandmother would have been so proud. Minerva just hated to see him like this, wallowing in self-pity and despair. Rupert was so much better than that. She rested her hand on his and tried to comfort him. “If you would have been there, the Dark Lord would have killed you as well.”

Rupert only nodded, pouring himself another glass of fire-whiskey. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she was telling the truth. If he had been there with the Potters, he would have died too, like his father had just months before. And what good was his death if it didn’t accomplish anything? Still, he wouldn’t say that he agreed with her out loud because there was a part of him that wished he had been murdered along with the Potters.

Instead of opening up that can of worms, Rupert just sighed, “So, Dumbledore sent you, then?”

“Yes, I would have come sooner but Albus and I had some business to take care of in Surrey,” she told him.

“Got the boy settled in with a family that doesn't want him, eh?” Rupert asked, sardonically. “What about his family here? I would have taken the boy. Any of the Order would.”

“Harry is not your family, Rupert,” Minerva said, warning him because she knew what he was implying. It was no secret he viewed James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, as brothers. The loss of any one of them would be like the loss of his wand hand. Everyone in the Order was taking the Potters’ deaths hard, but to Rupert, he had just lost more of his family to Voldemort.

“He's as good as.” His voice strained to keep from shouting. But with the fire-whiskey running its course it was proving to be more difficult than he expected. Rupert wanted to yell, he wanted to shout, he wanted to tell his much-esteemed mentor to ‘sod off’ but he knew that even as whiskey-soaked as he was there were some things that one still could not get away with. “What do you want, Minerva?”

“I want you to stop drowning your sorrows and follow me,” she said. “I have someone who wants to say goodbye.”

Rupert’s mood brightened slightly. “Did you bring Harry?”

“It’s not safe to speak here. Please, just come with me.”

He wanted to ask the obvious questions. But from the look Minerva was giving him it was probably best Rupert said nothing at all and just did as he was told; as boring as that was. Nonetheless, he finished his drink, tossed a couple of Galleons on the table, and fell in behind Minerva as she left, stepping out into the cool October night. Whatever Rupert was preparing his mind for; whatever news or scolding he was readying himself for, none of it made him properly equipped to handle the sight of a small baby carriage on the back of a large motorcycle nor the small baby girl with dark brown hair and emerald green eyes just like her mother's.

“How? What? How?” Rupert stuttered, tears welling in his eyes he refused to let fall. He looked down at the small baby girl who had been thought dead but was still somehow very much alive. He reached out to touch Elizabeth's cheek, if only to make sure she was real. However, tiny Lizzie snatched his finger and held onto it tightly as she chortled. That was enough to send Rupert’s tears over the threshold, rolling down his cheeks. Minerva simply smiled, handing her pupil a handkerchief without a word or a second thought.

A deep chuckle broke the moment, as the soft rumbling of a giant’s, or rather a half-giant’s footsteps gently shook the ground as he appeared from the shadows. He was twice as tall as any man and at least five times as wide, with hands as big as trashcan lids and his feet in boots that could fit a toddler comfortably. Small, by the standards of giants but incredibly large from a wizard's viewpoint. He had a long mane of shaggy black hair and pale skin with dark eyes that gleamed like black beetles in the moonlit street.

“Three good questions there, Rupert...,” half-giant greeted with a bemused grin.

Rupert grinned and nodded. “I must've taken a page from your book, Hagrid. You were always a better word-smith than I could ever be.”

Rubeus Hagrid and Rupert Giles had known one another since Rupert's first days at Hogwarts. The half-giant had gone to school with his grandmother and knew his father when he was a student before that. So the two were close. “I don’t know how you got Sirius Black lend you his most prized possession.”

“It wasn't easy,” Hagrid confessed. “Sirius, even in mournin' like he is, couldn't bear ter have it leave his sight. I finally had ter tell 'im that Dumbledore asked me ter take the boy.”

Rupert looked back down to Elizabeth Potter for a moment. She had fallen asleep and looked completely at peace, like she hadn't a care in the world. He wondered when he lost that ability to sleep so soundlessly. He wondered how her life would be never knowing her parents or if she'd ever know how much she looked like her mother. He wondered if he would be there to see her turn into a witch that her parents would have been proud. But what he wondered above all else was how both Elizabeth and Harry lived where so many others had died.

“However Harry managed to survive, Elizabeth was also the beneficiary of that miracle,” Minerva explained, breaking his train of thought.

“Why tell everyone she died along with her parents?” he asked.

“Because Albus thinks together they would make a target for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's supporters still at large. Elizabeth is to be hidden with a wizarding family loyal to the Order for her own safety,” she replied.

“She should be held in the same esteem as her brother. They both survived where so many others have died,” Rupert noted.

“She will be, Rupert,” Minerva assured him. “However, that will not be for some time. Let's first make certain she is taken care of. Elizabeth, like her brother, will be famous - a legend - there will be books written about the Potter Twins - every child in our world will know their names. That's why everyone must think that Elizabeth is dead - that kind of attention would be enough to go to any person's head. Famous before she can walk or talk; Famous for something she will never remember. It would be better for her to not know until she's ready to take it. Only the Order will know of her true identity. The rest of the world will think she died with her parents. But to us she will be the Girl We Kept Hidden.”


	2. Chapter Two: The Fire From Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's idenity has been a well guarded secret for the last decade... but here's the thing about secrets... they always find a way into the light.
> 
> Also Draco shows up in this chapter and is a massive git. So go team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on Tumblr (Cutelikemurder) or my writing peeps (FuzzyCheeseProductions). 
> 
> For this story I want to update every Tuesday in honor of BtVS. We'll see if that actually happens. But here's hoping.

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One  


* * *

  
One would be hard-pressed to find a finer witch than Joyce Summers. So why she had married Hank Summers was a mystery to most who knew them. Mr. Summers had the build of an ex-athlete with short, true brown hair and dark blue eyes that gleamed like two sapphires against his pale skin. He was one of the few Slytherins to serve the Order of the Phoenix during the Dark Rebellion; using his family's influence to gain access to information about the Dark Lord's dealings that few could. And now the former Chaser of the Falmouth Falcons worked as the Senior Quidditch Correspondent for the Daily Prophet when he wasn't getting too friendly with his secretary. Mrs. Summers, a muggle-born and former Gryffindor, had joined the Order at the height of the Dark Lord's power, showing more heart than some of her pureblood compatriots. Joyce was a beautiful, blond woman with a heart-shaped face and dark gray eyes that held a quiet strength most didn't notice because of her kind and nurturing disposition. She was a gallery director in a Muggle art gallery in London by day and at home she acted as if she had no idea how friendly her husband was at his place of work.  
      
Nearly ten years had passed since Joyce and Hank took young Elizabeth Lily Potter (known to the wizarding world as Miss Buffy Anne Summers) into their home on Revello Drive in Ottery St. Catchpole. The world around them had hardly noticed the addition to their family. But to Joyce and Hank, Buffy was a breath of fresh air. Their mantle was adorn with enchanted pictures of a bubbly little brunette with brilliant green eyes - taking her first steps - learning to ride her first broomstick - playing Quiddtich with her adopted father - being showered with affection by her adopted mother - holding her baby sister Dawn for the first time. In fact although Dawn was six years younger than her sister, her pictures; most of which were taken by an overjoyed Buffy who was thrilled to be a big sister, out-numbered Buffy's. However, the eldest Summers girl had soon come to realize that being a big sister meant one had to deal with a little sister. And to be perfectly frank; sometimes little sisters could be big pain in the arse.  
      
Even asleep, Buffy was incapable of escaping her duties as big sis; made apparent by Dawn, celebrating her fifth birthday earlier than Buffy wanted to. Little Dawnie bounced on Buffy's bed, singing her version of the happy birthday song, adding a verse about the kinds of presents she wanted. Dawn Marie Summers was a small and clearly precocious child with long, bone straight hair that came down and around her shoulders. It was a color somewhere between her mother's dark blond and her father's true brown. Though, her eyes she had gotten from her father; little sapphires that glinted with a joke only Dawn seemed to know.  
      
“Come on, Buffy. It's my birthday mornin’. Time to cook me hotcakes like you promised,” Dawn squealed.  
      
“Five more minutes, Dawnie,” Buffy groaned, wanting desperately to sleep just a few more hours. Odd, considering how early she normally got up. But she hadn't slept well the night before due to a recurring nightmare about a scary man in a black robe that shot green light from his wand. She didn't need to be told that the man was Lord Voldemort. Nor did she need to be told that the green light from his wand was him casting the Killing Curse on her. But what she couldn't understand was why she was having a dream she was Harry Potter in the first place and why her forehead burned so badly afterward that it should have left a mark. Yet there was no scar on her forehead - no blemish of any kind that gave her any inclination that she was related to the Boy Who Lived.  
      
Upon noticing how worn out her sister was, Dawn settled herself down on Buffy's bed with a concern grimace. It was a look that reminded Buffy of their mother. And with practice, it was an expression that would be able to entice guilt even when you hadn't done a thing wrong. Joyce had mastered that look and little Dawnie was well on her way.  
      
“You dreamt about You-Know-Who again, didn’t you?” she asked, softly.  
      
Buffy sat up slowly, trying not to concern herself with matted mess that was her hair, and shook her head. “No, I just went to sleep late is all.”  
      
The younger Summers girl looked at Buffy for a moment and then pouted. “Lair.”  
      
Somehow Dawn could always tell when Buffy was being less-than-truthful. But Dawn knew better than to press her sister any further. Just simply making Buffy aware that she knew that she was lying was enough for Dawn.  
      
“So, one order of birthday hotcakes then?” Buffy asked. Dawn eagerly nodded, spring off the bed. “Rounds or funny shapes?”  
      
“Funny shapes!” the younger Summers girl squealed before shooting off downstairs to the kitchen. Buffy waited until her sister was out of sight before she plopped back down on her bed with an exasperated sigh. She just needed a minute or two to collect herself - push out the memory of a nightmare she had had been having off and on for as long as she could remember. Strange, considering she was only a year and half when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named blew himself up and wasn't young enough to remember anything about him, let alone what happened the night he vanished. But Buffy had and did. Her mother had said it was only a dream and that she shouldn't worry about such things. However, to Buffy it felt so real.  
      
After she collected her thoughts, Buffy trotted down the stairs and walked into the kitchen to find Joyce already making breakfast. It could only mean that Dawn told their mother about her nightmare. Buffy frowned, glaring at her little sister who was trying to look as innocent as possible but of course failing horribly. The last thing Buffy wanted was people making a big deal about her; feeling sorry for her. It was just a silly dream and nothing more.  
      
“You really should have let me cook breakfast, mum,” Buffy said, sliding into her seat at the table.  
      
Joyce smiled. “Honey, I couldn't let you do that with the kind of night you had.”  
      
“I'm fine. Really, I’m alright. No lighting scar, no burning pain. I'm fine, honestly,” Buffy insisted. One thing she despised was being coddled in any way. She demanded that people understand that she was capable of any burden and she had a fierce need to persevere without acknowledgment. It was a trait reminded Joyce so much of Lily Potter. Although, one didn't need that to be reminded of Lily; all Joyce had to do was take one look at Buffy to see her. She was a miniature version of Lily, except for her hair. It's color was a perfect mix of her Lily's red hair and James' jet black, making it the a shade somewhere between a very dark auburn and a chocolate brown, depending on how much sun she had gotten in the last couple of months. Every time Joyce looked into Buffy's bright green eyes she saw Lily staring back at her. Joyce nodded, pretending to agree with her eldest daughter. But when Buffy had come to her and her husband, telling them about a nightmare she had had about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and essentially gave her memory of the event in Godric's Hollow, nearly 10 years ago; Joyce knew one day that she would have to tell her daughter about her birth parents and famous twin.  
      
“I know, honey,” Joyce said placing a plate of pancakes on the table. She fixed Dawn her plate before returning to the stove to clean up. “Your father had to go to the office today. So it's just going to be us three. I was thinking we could go to Hogsmeade and I could spoil my two favorite daughters today.”  
      
Dawn giggled, stuffing her face with a mouthful of hotcake before replying, “Mum we'refff yourfff onfee daughfers...”  
      
Buffy just smiled weakly, poking at her breakfast. She would have argued further but it was Dawnie's day and she didn't want to spoil it. However, she knew this wasn't going to be the last time she would have such a dream, nor would it be the last time, Joyce pretended like nothing was wrong.  
      
Two hours later Joyce, Buffy, and Dawn found themselves in Honeydukes'. Dawn, with her eyes growing big as she fidgeted was standing next her mother. Buffy, who was on the other side of Dawn leaned over to her little sister and whispered, “Dawnie, it's your birthday, go crazy.” That was all it took for the five year-old to booked it to the chocolate frog section of Honeydukes'.  
      
“Buffy I'm going to make a stopover at the Three Broomstricks. I have to meet someone who has that Sneakoscopce that Dawnie's been hounding me about. You think you can keep an eye on your sister until I get back?” Joyce asked.  
      
“Sure, mum. I'll keep both eyes on her just in case,” Buffy said.  
      
Mrs. Summers trusting her eldest daughter gave her a couple of Galloens and with a wave was gone; leaving Dawn in Buffy’s care.  
      
“Oi! Watch it!” Buffy heard her sister’s voice coming from around the corner of one of the rows.  
      
“Dawn’s in trouble; must be Tuesday,” the eldest Summers girl sighed as she went to intercept her baby sister. Once she rounded the corner Buffy was face to face with a slender boy with silvery-blond hair, cool gray eyes and sharp, pointed features. She didn’t need to be told that this boy was none other than Draco Lucius Malfoy. Draco’s father had been school mates with Hank until Hank started dating a Muggle-Born. Then Lucius had treated Buffy’s father like a leper. And little Draco didn’t mind letting the Summers girls know just where they ranked with him.  
      
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. Must have confused you with some trash I saw on the floor,” Draco ripped into Dawn. Buffy’s blood boiled at his words. No one talked to her sister that way; not if they wanted to keep their limbs attached to their body. Of course, she knew that if she touched Draco, her mother would ground her until Guy Fawkes’ Night. Still, beating Malfoy to a bloody pulp would be worth her prison term.  
      
“Malfoy, your mouth is moving. Words are coming out. This is never good,” Buffy fired back.  
      
“Summers…” The way he said her name made Buffy fight off the urge to shiver. He always took delight in tormenting her. She didn’t know why. But he did. And she could never understand it. “It’s good to see, your Mudblood mother knows her way around our world.”  
      
“Our mum is not a mudblood!” Dawn shouted.  
      
“Take it back, Malfoy…” Buffy’s words held a subtle warning. An added ‘or else’ went unspoken. But they both knew what Buffy was getting at.  
      
“Or what, Summers? What will you do?” Malfoy was practically begging her to hit him. So was Dawn. But Buffy was doing a good job at controlling herself. Then Malfoy pushed her. Buffy didn’t remember hitting the ground; all she could recall was standing and then suddenly being on the floor with Malfoy laughing at her. His face brightened with delight as Buffy’s gaze burned through him. She felt her temperature rise as her face reddened. And then it happened; the tiniest of sparks. And soon Draco’s right sleeve was on fire.  
      
Malfoy let out a blood-curdling scream as he waved his arm about, trying to put out the fire. And Dawn roared with laughter. For a moment the other children in the store, along with their parents watched in muted horror as Draco flayed around, waving his arm frantically.  
      
“Aguamenti,” a flash of blue light herald a spout of water coming from behind Buffy. It sprayed Malfoy and extinguished the flames but left the boy soaking wet. Draco looked like a cat caught in a rainstorm by the time the spell had done its work.  
      
A shriek signaled to Buffy that Malfoy’s mother had seen the whole thing or at the very least the end result. And she was not pleased. In Buffy’s opinion it served Draco right for being such a snot-head but that didn’t squelch the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her that somehow she was responsible.  
      
“You wicked vile…” Draco’s mother began as she collected her son.  
      
“Narssisa, I would think twice before I finished that sentence if I were you,” a man’s voice, caused Buffy to turn to get a look at the person who had saved Malfoy. He was a rather tall man, much taller than Buffy’s father, with horn-rimmed glasses that reminded her of… not the man in her dream, but another person. Although he was frowning, clearly upset, there was a subtle gentleness in his gray-green eyes that let Buffy know that he was at least a kind person.  
      
“Mr. Giles, this girl is a menace. She was clearly-”  
      
Again the man cut her off. “-defending her little sister from your son’s lack of manners.”  
      
Buffy watched as Draco’s mother swallowed that insult. It amazed the eldest Summers girl because she had never seen anyone do that to Mrs. Malfoy, expect her own mother.  
      
“Come on, Draco. We should go; we’ll do the rest of your shopping later.” Narssisa ushered Malfoy outside.  
      
“And good riddance Blondie Bear!” Dawn called after him as Buffy rose to her feet. She looked at Mr. Giles and then Dawn, nudging her sister. The youngest Summers frowned but went silent.  
      
“Buffy Anne Summers!” She cringed at the sound of her mother’s voice. She knew she was in trouble.  
      
“Joyce…” The way Mr. Giles said her mother’s name, let Buffy know that he knew her mother somehow.  
      
“Hello, Rupert.” Joyce said, coolly.  
      
“It was the Malfoys’ Boy, Draco. Your daughters were just defending your honor,” Giles explained. Joyce waved it away with her hand as if it meant nothing.  
      
“That’s no excuse. My girls should know better…” Joyce said, never taking her eyes off of Buffy. Dawn shouldn’t have known better. She was five and the baby of the family. It was Buffy that was the eldest, the responsible one. SHE should have known better.  
      
“It’s true, Mum. Malfoy was going to call you a Mud-“ Buffy put her hand over Dawn’s mouth. Their mother’s was right. That didn’t excuse them.  
      
“Sorry, Mum…” Buffy said, hanging her head.  
      
“We’ll talk about it when we get home… Come girls… Good-bye, Rupert.” Joyce led her daughters outside. It was only Buffy that looked back to see Mr. Giles waving at them. She smiled at the older man.  
      
“Goodbye Giles…” she said before following her mother outside.  
      
When Buffy got home she would find that she was indeed grounded, despite Dawn maintaining that she never touched Malfoy. However Buffy, Joyce and even Hank knew better. Buffy had set Malfoy on fire. So she was sent to her room without dessert. And Buffy would have stayed in her room until the next morning if it wasn't for a certain reoccurring nightmare. As Buffy navigated her darkened house, she could hear a hushed arrangement coming from downstairs.  
      
“Is she dangerous?” Buffy heard her father ask.  
      
“No, of course not,” Joyce replied.  
      
“But pyrokinesis is not a common wizarding trait,” Hank said.  
      
“It's not, but Buffy is not a common witch. We knew that when we took her into our home...” Joyce's words were like a dagger to the chest. Buffy had always known that she didn't fit in with her family. She didn't look like her mother, or father or sister. Her hair was too dark, her eyes too green to be a Summers. And now, Joyce basically confirmed her worst fears.  
      
“Yes, but I will not put my daughter in danger just because the Order thinks she’ll be safe with us,” Hank insisted.  
      
“I assume you're speaking about Dawn, Hank... So let me say this, Buffy IS my daughter, just as Dawnie is. And I see no reason to uproot Buffy because of one event. The Malfoys' son deserved it. And Buffy although out of line, is still young and will learn to control her gifts. Which if today was any indication, are going to be considerable. I made a promise to her mother that I would keep her should anything happen. And I intend to continue to make good on that promise. Now, if you don't like that Hank, you can always leave... Perhaps that secretary you're so fond of will take you in...”  
      
Buffy couldn't believe her mother; well adopted-mother spoke to her adopted father that way. She was happy that Joyce did because it made her love the woman even more. Still, adopted. How was she going to deal with that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next of CotP: Buffy gets letters addressed to a dead girl.

**Author's Note:**

> So now that you're done (and hopefully enjoyed what you read), you can pop over and read some of the Fuzzy Cheese Team's original works. (Search users for 'FuzzyCheeseProductions')
> 
> Like Generation Undead: Teenage Wasteland, a Young-Adult novel in the drafting stages about teenagers trying to navigate the horrors of a global zombie apocalypse.
> 
> Or Blood Harbor, the first book in the Charm City Saga, a New Adult novel in the editing stage. Blood Harbor is just a typical story. Girl meets guy. Guy kills girl and turns her into a creature of the night. She must learn how to navigate this Underverse or face death a second time. She is taken in by a vampire with a similar story, only that was a century and half ago. Together they will undercover a plot that could turned the supernatural world on it's head.
> 
> Finally there's a script for a comic book, titled: "SSDD (Book Zero in the Odd Jobs Series)." A story about an aimless 30 year old death mage that sells her gifts to the highest bidder. Firefly meets Buffy... Basically.
> 
> Well yeah. Shameless plug over.


End file.
